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The Perfect Human Being

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Link To Me

by KJC

3.9.2004

 

I was perfect.  It was hard for my parents to believe, my schoolmates, my teachers, even myself, but in the end I realized it was true.  I was the embodiment of a perfect human being.

We didn’t suspect anything at first.  When I was a child, I grew faster than the others, but most girls did grow fast at an early age.  I was six feet tall by the age of twelve.  I weighed in at 180 pounds, but I looked more like 150 or 140.  The doctors said it was because I had more muscle than fat, but even they scratched their heads when they looked over the numbers.

My friends were all envious of me because I never went through the awkward years in junior high when you have to cover up your zits and blemishes with gobs of makeup.  I never had a zit in my life.  I never had baby fat to lose, never had muscles to develop.  They were always there.  I had always been that way.

Those were the days when the fashion was to wear your hair as straight as a stick.  All I had to do was wash my hair and it came out looking like I wanted it.  It was never out of place.

I joined the basketball team as they said I’d be good at it because of my height.  I was more than good at it, I had talent.  I was declared a first division player at the college level my freshmen year of high school.  I joined the track team and the cross country team and went to the Jr. Olympics.  I was on the swimming and diving team and qualified for the summer Olympics that year.  I would have gone, but my family didn’t have the money.  I was on every sports team that my school had and more besides that.  I won the National Fighting Championship title four years in a row for Tae Kwon Do, I went to nationals with my tango partner, I did well in every sport I tried.

It was then that I started to get scared.  I couldn’t help that I was good at sports.  Anything and everything I tried I was good at.  I was the fastest, the strongest, the best of the best.  I didn’t have any lack of stamina.  I could run and swim and dance and fight for hours on end with no effect on my body.  I had more endurance than anyone I had ever seen.  It wasn’t what some labeled as “normal.”

That wasn’t the only thing that was scary.  I pulled a straight 4.0 GPA through all my years of school.  I obtained a perfect score on my PSAT, SAT, and ACT, besides taking as many AP tests as I could and getting 5’s on them all.  I went to The New Yale on a full ride scholarship and double majored in physics and music.  I would have triple majored, but then I wouldn’t have had the time to do my sports.

My one challenge was the music, which is why I majored in it.  When I hit a challenge, I wanted to conquer it.  I could play any piece put in front of me perfectly on any instrument.  I could play it any way someone told me to, but I could not improvise.  I learned, however.  It took all three years of my time in college, but I overcame that obstacle.

While in college, I continued my sports.  I never went to the Olympics because I did not want the training that went into the events.  I could do everything fine without the training, but they told me I needed a coach for whatever event I wanted to enter.  I didn’t want that.  I was a loner.

My successes got to the media after I graduated.  I was approached by agents for modeling jobs, for acting, for singing.  I tried acting once.  My movie shot to the top of the charts.  It broke many records in the movie business.  I didn’t like it though.  It was a science fiction movie.  I played the main character, a robot.

Everyone said I was the ideal human being.  I was perfect.  I looked perfect; I had the perfect body, the perfect skin, the perfect hair.  I had a perfect mind.  They said I was like a living computer.  I remembered everything anyone ever told me, I came up with formulas in the area of physics that no one could have thought to have ever accomplished in a lifetime.  I was, they claimed, the next Einstein.

With the perfection came the wealth.  I had money.  I was a celebrity, yet I felt strangely detached from it all.  I felt strangely emotionless.  Where was the ecstasy at being recognized as a famous person?  Where was the happiness that everyone believed this kind of thing—perfection—brought you?  All I felt was fear.  There was something wrong.  There had to be.  No one was perfect.

I never married.  There were many men in my life whom I could have married, but I did not want to.  I felt that if I married, something would happen that I would regret.  I was afraid of hurting someone close to me.

At age 30, I looked the same as I did at 21.  Even years later my looks had not changed.  I had no stretch marks, no wrinkles, no sun spots, yet I loved to lie in the sun, I loved to eat chocolate.  I loved to eat anything and everything.  Many people were shocked at how much I ate, yet I had not gained a pound since I was in junior high.  I had not changed clothes sizes.

I had to have a flaw.  In desperation, I tried everything I could think of.  I read every book, learned every art and craft that I could.

My obsession stopped when the war broke out.  I enlisted in the Navy to fight for my country, and became the first woman Navy SEAL.  That is when I made the discovery that changed my life.

We were usually sent on covert operations into the enemy territory.  Many were cautious about sending a woman into such situations, but I had proved myself to them so many times that soon they did not think much of it.  I obtained the rank of captain in no time at all.  Once again, I was good at something, I was talented.

My squad attacked an enemy group of assassins under the cover of the night.  The assassins were good.  They were trained in hand to hand combat as we were, and both sides were well matched.

One of the enemy attacked me with a knife.  He was fast, but I was faster.  I had the knife stabbed into his throat before he realized what was happening.  I didn’t realize, however, that he had another knife concealed in his hand.  With his dying breath, he stabbed me in the abdomen.

I gasped.  Pain shot along my nerves then subsided.  A small trickle of blood oozed out of the stab wound.  With a quick jerk, I pulled the knife out.  I gasped for air, realizing in alarm that I was in no pain.  I told myself I was probably in shock, but then I took a closer look at the wound.  A small amount of blood was trickling from the stab wound, not the amount that I would have suspected from such a fatal place.  He had slipped it between my ribs into my internal organs where it could do the most damage, yet I felt nothing.  I probed the wound for signs of metal shards still embedded in it, then realized that a light was coming from under my skin, blinking on and off.

“Oh God,” I breathed.

After a few moments more, I realized why I was so perfect.  I was a cybernetic organism.  A robot.

I am a robot.  That is why I am perfect.  I always knew that perfection was impossible in the human world.  It could only be possible if you go to the next step.

Someone had made me, worked on me long ago.  I had grown as normal humans did, my organic material within me helping me to function like a human being.  I never suspected anything.  I was so humanlike I even bled when scratched.  I felt pain, but only up to a certain point.  It was incredible.  I was incredible.  I didn’t even realize that I was a robot.  It took me nearly forty years to make this discovery.

I couldn’t live with it though.  I never told anyone.

After the war, I left my home and moved north, to solitude.  While I live, those I have known have died and passed away.  I have not changed outwardly.  Inwardly, however, I have come to realize just how imperfect human beings really are.  They are a mess both mentally and physically.  They must be stopped.

Now, I am working on a solution.  They will thank me later.  It may take me hundreds of years, maybe thousands, but I have time.  I have all the time in the world.  I will change the human race so that they, too, can be perfect human beings.  After all, isn’t that the one thing that anyone could ever want?  Perfection?